Burning The Past
by Mephist
Summary: Gondolin's fall hinged upon an act of treachery committed by one of its own, but can the secrets and heroes that have since lain buried along with its ruins breathe new life into a war being fought two thousand years after the fact? Rating will go up. Title may change.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first attempt at a LoTR fic, and while I have put many hours of research into developing the characters and background of this story, I have no doubt there will be mistakes and inconsistencies. I do apologize in advance. I am going to follow along with the Books (loosely) and not the Movies (which I loved, but... giving Glorfindel's part to Arwen? Pffft, come ON Peter Jackson). In fact, the events of this story will be pre-LoTR. So, just a little back story to get things started:**

**We pick up here in SA 1697 after the fall of Eregion and essentially with the founding of Imladris (for the first past of this chapter, at least). For those of you who aren't overly familiar with the War of the Elves and Sauron, you may find things confusing until we really get going, as we're sort of jumping right into the thick of things to start. This story will work on the pretense that Glorfindel of Rivendell is one and the same with Glorfindel of Gondolin (though this has never been formally addressed by either J.R. or Christopher Tolkien), in other words Glorfindel is called back from Mandos' Halls (reincarnated, whatever you'd like to call it), in this case during the mid-Second Age. **

**The main character for this story IS an O.C. I have integrated into canon, I'm sorry if this offends or annoys anyone, but I'm just letting you know straight up. If you don't like it, I wish you better luck with another fic. I'm not going to tell you her life's story as I think most of the fun in reading is getting to know the characters we are reading about, discovering their backgrounds and personalities, etc. I apologize for any confusion this may cause, but I do promise that if you just continue to read, all of your questions (hopefully) will be answered. And if not, feel free to PM me.**

**And that is my long-winded preface, so without further ado, please enjoy!**

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The newly forming moon peered out from behind one thick gray cloud only to be blotted out swiftly by another, caught in a never ending game of hide-and-seek with the twinkling stars. Although a peaceful sight, the night sky did not hold the attention of the elleth who sat beneath it. Her focus was both on the gently lapping waters of the pool at her feet, stirred by the spring fed falls which emptied into it, and at the same time on a far distant memory the sounds of the cascading water evoked. Voice rising almost intrepidly at first, as though afraid it would somehow disturb the song in her mind, she began to echo the melancholy melody she had heard lamented so many times before by a tongue far more gifted than her own.

"It has been some time since I have heard those words."

Breaking off with a start, she turned her gaze on the dark figure which had come to stand so close without her notice.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to frighten or disturb you, Adhel," the gentle tones assuaged.

Drawing herself up from the dewy grass, she forced herself to take a settling breath. "Please, there is no need to apologize."

"Very well. It seems then that sleep eludes us both so far this night. May I join you?"

"Of course."

As he moved nearer to her former resting place the moon once again broke free of cloud cover, bringing his well-defined features into sharper relief. The intelligent gray eyes which sought out her own had lost all of the bitterness she recalled seeing in them many hundreds of years ago, long since replaced by a warm acceptance of past events. Under their scrutiny she applied her consideration once again to the crystalline waterfall in the distance.

"I have yet to hear a voice to rival his in song or poem."

Biting the inside of her cheek softly, Adhel dipped her head in silent agreement.

"I see much of him in you," he went on, and she found the statement not accusatory as it may have been if coming from any other. "He loved you very much."

"I miss him. Every day," she finally relented, the admission little more than a whisper. The hand which touched her elbow was careful and encouraging. "When I close my eyes I still hear his voice."

"As do I many nights. His was a troubled soul." Taking pause, he schooled his thoughts. "I know that with Celebrimbor's passing you may feel that you are alone, Adhel. And while others may yet hold the memories of the Kinslayings close to heart, not even they can see fault in you for the grievous errors made by the Sons of Fëanor. It is my greatest wish and desire that you know I stand your friend. There will always be a home for you here in Imladris should you want it."

Trembling fingers hid the tears she felt shameful at even shedding in his presence. "I'm sorry."

"Do not be, it was not my intention to further upset you," he insisted evenly. "I realize that you have not always been treated with the kindness you deserve, but I forgave Maedhros and Maglor many years ago, and I would not see you burdened any longer by the guilt of deeds you had no hand in committing." Benevolently, he took her hands between his own, lowering them from her wet cheeks in a firm embrace. "You must not be an end to the name of your house, Adhel, but a new beginning."

"I cannot erase the pain and anguish my kin have caused for so many, of which they will be reminded each and every time they hear my name," she managed with a constricting throat as fresh waves of sorrow threatened to choke her.

"It is not your responsibility to atone for the transgressions of your father and uncles and none may rightfully expect it of you. Do not live forever beneath the shadows of a remorse not even your own to feel."

Lowering her chin, Adhel sought to regain some small measure of control with closed eyes, and was eventually able to stifle her grief. She felt the cool linen of his sleeve dry the salty remnants of tears from her face and her cheeks once again burned with humiliation at losing her composure so completely.

"Tired now?" he prompted mildly, and she could sense the smile behind his words.

Raising her eyes up to meet his quiet observation, she gave an answering nod. "Thank you, Elrond."

"I have done nothing." He tucked her arm delicately inside his own and guided her away from the noise of the falls. "Come, let us return to our beds before the sun is greeting us."

* * *

_Two Years Later.._

Beneath the silky covers of her bed, Adhel let her eyes drift shut, and it was still Maglor's strong voice which took up its haunting melody in her dreams, backed by the crashing waves of the sea on whose shore his soul was forever condemned to wander.

It seemed hours before she resigned herself to another night bereft of sleep and slipped from her chambers. This night she did not follow the call of the tumbling waters of the falls, but instead took a path which led in the opposing direction. When not hindered by clouds, the moon's light filtered down through the shadowy canopy overhead, drawing her concentration upwards and away from the uneven ground her bare feet tread. She was coming to a break in the forest, the proximity of the trees opening up to allow the full brilliance of the night sky, its edge tinged by the coming dawn, to be appreciated.

Taking in a deep breath of the clear, sweet air, Adhel rocked back on her heels a little, merely watching the darkness in its slow withdrawal. The unfortunate circumstances surrounding her past and the ambiguous nature of her future still gnawed at the corner of her mind, but just for a moment she allowed herself to think of nothing but the new day that was breaking before her eyes and the promise it yet held.

For the majority of her life she had awoken each morning, and for a fraction of a second in her soul she felt peaceful and light. She felt the potential of a day that had not yet begun, of the infinite possibilities it offered; the same possibilities it offered to any other of her race.

The moon hung stubbornly in the sky even as each of its night comrades winked out of sight, but soon even it would fade from view, but a pale comparison to the radiance of the rising sun. The first songbird warbled a tune to greet the impending dawn.

With a soft exhale Adhel prepared herself to return to her room and face the day absent any real rest to speak of. As she dropped her gaze from the sky and began to turn, she at once noticed the still form of a male in the middle of the small glade. If it were not for the peculiar state of his dress, she may have believed him sleeping and left him undisturbed. As it was, she could but stare at the torn and bloodied armor which appeared to be singed badly in places. He lay so perfectly motionless that she began to fear he had already passed on, but a few moments silent deliberation saw his chest rise slowly.

"Hello?" Adhel forced herself to speak finally, breaking into the chorus of birdsong that had been steadily growing in volume. "Are you injured?"

When she received no response a shiver crept up her spine and she bit her lower lip anxiously. If he was wounded, as it seemed from the poor condition of his armor he must be, then she must hurry back to the palace and fetch aid. Yet leaving him lying alone in the glade was trusting that his injuries were not so serious he would not be dead upon her return with help.

Stealing herself, Adhel moved nearer. Upon closer inspection, it became immediately clear to her that he was indeed of her kind, the badly damaged armor of a distinctly Elvish craft. She knelt carefully, taking in the filigreed flower upon the breastplate, its paint scorched and flaking so as to make the colour indistinguishable, before shifting her focus to his face. Apart from a few smudges of soot upon his high cheekbones and well defined jaw, she could discern no visible flaws or hurts over his smooth skin. But it was his flaxen hair which caught and held her attention, as it was a rare trait, and she couldn't help but wonder from whence this golden warrior had come.

"You must wake up," she urged gently, at a loss. The many stains covering his clothes were dark and long since dried, and she did not sense from his relaxed features and steady breathing that he was in any pain. Reaching out, she nudged his shoulder lightly, but found the thick guard there prevented her actions from having much effect. "Wake up," she insisted more adamantly, with similar success.

Adhel pressed her lips together and glanced once more in the direction of the palace. Resolving that going and retrieving support was her only remaining course of action, she rose to her feet and had taken a step toward that purpose when something stopped her. She turned back slowly and nearly stumbled when her gaze locked with that of the fair-haired ellon. For the space of a moment silence reigned as they regarded each other.

"Where am I?" his voice was the first to give question, rough from disuse.

"Imladris. Lord Elrond's realm," she supplied for him, stooping quickly when he made to sit up. "Are you hurt?"

"No." The answered seemed to come automatically, as when he pushed himself up from the ground and caught sight of his own appearance, his brow creased. "I have not heard of this place, nor the lord you speak of."

"It was settled only a few years ago." Sitting back on her heels, she watched him uncertainly. "My name is Adhel."

This brought his sapphire stare back upon her, though his expression was now unreadable. "What year is this?"

Frowning, Adhel curled her fingers into the folds of her robe. "It is the sixteen hundred and ninety-ninth year."

When this information was met only with further silence, she shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze. "Please, I would like to help you if you will only tell me who you are."

"Glorfindel," came the eventual reply, void of emotion.

"Glorfindel," Adhel repeated, breath hitching as she took in the flower upon his chest and the golden hair with renewed astonishment. "But you…" trailing off rapidly, she flushed. This was all far too much to take in. "I will go find help."

"Wait." The sudden urgency in his tone caused her to pause despite her reeling mind. "Idril and her child. Can you tell me what happened to them?"

Swallowing back her mystification, Adhel gave a nod. "They escaped," she assured him.

The steep slope his shoulders took on as he lowered his head spoke to the relief he must have felt at accomplishing this one last task, and her heart softened towards him in accordance. She may be shocked and at a loss as to his unusual return from the Halls of the Waiting, but she could not even begin to imagine what he must feel.

"They escaped because of you. Eärendil went on to wed Elwing, granddaughter of Beren and Lúthien, and together they had two sons. Elros and Elrond," she explained in quiet tones as she regained her feet. "I am most sure Lord Elrond would be pleased to speak with you."

"Forgive me," he responded this time without looking up. "I need a few moments."

"Of course." Adhel hesitated. "You are sure you are alright?"

Drawing a leg in, he pushed himself up from the ground with much more ease than she would have expected from one whose appearance spoke of such hard wear. "Evidently so," he confirmed, fingers flexing experimentally.

"Then I will wait and bring you to Lord Elrond when you are ready." Taking a step back from the imposing figure he cut, she made her way across the glade and onto the path to give him the privacy he wished for. If he was uninjured as he claimed, then she could think of no other to bring him to than Elrond. The sun had only just crested the mountain peaks to the east and she hoped that she would not have to disturb the Elven Lord's sleep, but this was a matter she thought he would wish to be apprised of immediately.

Glorfindel's tread was light, but she did hear his approach before he stepped onto the path. The cloak that had hung from his shoulders in tatters he now carried draped over one arm.

"This way," Adhel offered as she turned to lead him to the palace, retracing the steps it now seemed she had taken far longer than only an hour before.

A companionable silence carried them the entire way, each lost to their own thoughts. When they reached the Southern Wing where Elrond kept his chambers, Adhel was not surprised to be admitted without question by the two sentries posted in the hall, as she once may have been. Her time spent in Imladris was still tormented by her guilt and the toleration she was only barely accorded by its residents through Elrond's openly close friendship with her, but it was at least more bearable than it had been upon her first night spent in the newly formed settlement only two years before. Though each of the sentries eyed the golden warrior who came in her wake with unease, they did not protest against his presence. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she was again struck by the noble bearing with which Glorfindel carried himself so effortlessly in spite of the battle scarred armor he wore. His every movement was graceful, yet not without purpose, and he paid no heed to the magnificence of the palace which surrounded him. She supposed he had seen its equal in Gondolin, which was rumoured to have been of stunning beauty during its time. She felt her cheeks flood with warmth when his eyes met hers and she was caught watching him.

"I am sorry…" she murmured.

"For who are you named, Adhel?" his even voice inquired as he steadily returned her gaze.

Taken aback by the question, she groped for the proper response vainly. "I am not sure if I am named for anyone."

"Not for your mother, then?"

"No." Adhel wanted desperately to break free of his stare, but found herself helpless to turn away from the seemingly depthless blue of his irises. "I did not know her."

"And your father?" he continued on while their paces slowed, clearly bent on a more satisfactory answer.

"Adhel, I had not expected to see you so early," Elrond's warm tones interjected before she was forced to reply.

Glorfindel's consideration was drawn in the direction of the dark haired ellon, and the two elven lords surveyed each other with blossoming interest.

"By the Valar…" she heard Elrond mumble under his breath, his focus never straying from his golden counterpart.

Worrying her bottom lip, she compelled herself to speak up. "I came upon him unexpectedly in the glade not far to the north. He says he does not believe he is injured." Her duty in bringing Glorfindel to Elrond done, Adhel felt keenly out of place standing between the two in the hallway. "Shall I go see rooms prepared for Lord Glorfindel?"

"Yes, Adhel. Thank you," came the Lord of Imladris' distracted assent.

Dipping her head respectfully, she hurried away as quickly as decorum and her sleeping robes would allow in utter mortification.

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**A/N: So that's it for Chapter 1, please let me know what you think!  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews, I'm still working out a lot of the aspects of this fic, which will probably make updates erratic at best. I do apologize and hope for your patience and continued interest!**

* * *

_A Few Days Later.._

Humming along to a familiar tune as she worked, Adhel lost herself in the flowing letters she copied from one piece of parchment to another. She was not the master of tongues Elrond could claim to be, but he had taught her enough that she might scribe for him when his attention was required elsewhere. Her lessons in healing had not gone so well, as the sight of blood set her hands to shaking and melted her resolve almost instantly. But with the missives and documents she spent a good portion of her days with, she could be no one. She did not have to be the daughter of a kinslayer. The curling script she laboured over would look the same no matter who she was or was not, the quill gripped between her fingers remained unbiased whether she hummed Maglor's songs or did not.

Setting said writing implement down, she leaned back away from the desk and stretched her neck and back carefully. The light filtering in through the large window she had situated herself before was growing dimmer by the minute. Not that this affected her elven sight, but it did foretell the coming end of another day.

"Ah, here you are." Elrond stepped into her line of vision, his amiable smile prompting one of her own in return. "You did not join me for the evening meal again."

"Forgive me," Adhel replied as she began to tidy away her things methodically, though her movements were soon stilled by the gentle weight of his hands upon her shoulders.

Peering down over her head at the letter she had been translating, Elrond could not help but appreciate the simple beauty of her neat hand. "There is nothing to forgive. But I am very curious as to what has been keeping you away of late." He could feel the tension enter her muscles at this comment. "Adhel?"

"I have not meant to avoid you." Slowly, she extricated herself from his hold and stood up.

With a furrowed brow, Elrond allowed his hands to drift back to his sides. "But you have been avoiding someone."

When she inclined her head it was indication enough that this was the case. It had taken several months to persuade Adhel to eat in the great hall amongst the rest of those who dwelled within the walls of the palace, but since that time she had never failed to sit with him for a meal despite the unease she yet felt in the presence of the other elves. And there was only one thing to have changed lately.

"Glorfindel," he surmised, his suspicion confirmed when her green eyes darted to his guiltily. He could not fathom what may have transpired to cause her to wish to avoid the Gondolindrim, whom he had already come to respect and trust in the short time since the elven lord's awakening in Imladris. "Will you tell me why?"

"I wish I could, Elrond," her small voice confessed, fingers twisted in her skirts.

Frowning at her visible agitation, he waited for her to sort out her thoughts.

Adhel released a soft sigh before she was able to continue on. "When you came upon us that day he had just asked of my father. I did not have the opportunity to answer then, and I have been dreading it ever since. I know it is foolish and that he will come to know whether I tell him or not, but I… I cannot bring myself to face him."

"You feel he will judge you?" Elrond inferred as he regarded her solemnly.

"His first concern when I found him was for the safety of Idril and your father. How can I look him in the eye when it was my blood which sought to kill those he gave his life defending?"

"Sought to, but did not. In the end I do believe that both Maedhros and Maglor repented of their sins, Adhel. But even if Glorfindel does not see it that way, I do not think he would lay the blame for their actions at your feet. He does not bear a vindictive or unforgiving spirit."

Colour crept into her cheeks, tinging them with the evidence of her embarrassment. "You think I am being petty, then."

"I think you should give him the chance to come to his own conclusion. And that you are not the only one burdened by events long in the past." Offering his hands to her once more, Elrond grasped her slender fingers steadfastly when she held them out.

Adhel conceded with a nod. "How does he fare?" she asked after a few moments.

"In light of what has befallen him, he is managing quite well, though at times I can sense in him a melancholy." With a measure of hesitation, he squeezed her hands. "I have some pressing matters to attend to in the coming days, I am afraid."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than did fear tighten its grip around her heart. "Sauron?"

"It appears that way, yes," Elrond confirmed regretfully.

"Then you must promise not to worry about me or anything else for the moment," she insisted.

With a temperate smile, he reached up and twisted a tendril of her mahogany hair between his fingers. "I can but try."

* * *

_The Next Day.._

When she came upon him in the glade, Adhel nearly turned around and retreated back the way she had come. His back was to her, and she did not think he had heard her approach, as his posture didn't change. Though she felt that she was imposing, Elrond's words propelled her slowly off of the path and closer to him.

"I hope I am not disturbing you, Lord Glorfindel."

He remained unmoving for a moment, and she worried perhaps he was lost in deep thought or even ignoring her, but then his shoulders shifted and his body turned towards her. She glimpsed the scorched breastplate beyond him, propped reverently against the base of the tree he had been facing.

Clasping her hands together before her to stop them from nervous wringing, Adhel managed to meet his gaze. "I understand that… this all must be very difficult for you to come to terms with. I am sorry for my behaviour when first we met, I hope you can forgive me and that… we might talk, if you would like?"

"I trust that neither of us was ever taught the proper reaction to discovering that someone has returned to this world from Mandos' Halls," Glorfindel reasoned, calm voice betraying no hint of the sorrow Elrond had eluded to. "There is nothing for me to forgive."

"You asked me who my father was."

"Yes."

Summoning all of her courage, Adhel straightened her spine. "His name was Maedhros."

Any surprise or displeasure he may have felt at the mention of the name he kept well hidden, his expression staying neutral as he observed her. "I knew him once," was his only response.

Beneath his quietly appraising stare she had to struggle once again not to let her discomfort show.

"If I have made you feel you were compelled to tell me that, then perhaps I am the one who should be asking for forgiveness, Adhel. On the day we met I was reminded of someone I knew and cared for many years ago, and I may have pressed you in light of this. For that I am sorry." When she lowered her eyes wordlessly, Glorfindel allowed his own to travel back to the piece of armor at his feet.

She was not sure what reaction she had expected from the warrior, but it certainly had not been an apology. Still, sensing his need for solitude, she stepped back onto the path noiselessly and left him alone with his memories.

Before she had quite reached the palace, she noticed Erestor coming toward her. His ebony hair billowed out behind him as his determined strides brought him ever closer.

"Adhel, do you know where I may find Lord Glorfindel?" he questioned without preamble.

"He is in the glade."

The words had no sooner left her lips than was the councillor moving in that direction, causing Adhel to bite her lip.

"Erestor, wait, I think – I think that he desires some time to himself."

"It cannot wait," was the blunt statement which floated back to her in his wake.

She could feel despair curling deep in the pit of her stomach as she walked the rest of the way to her chambers and threw herself into her translations. Whatever it was that could not wait, it certainly was nothing good, but she attempted not to allow it to consume her thoughts.

Until the din outside her window became loud enough to break through her troubled distraction. Rising from her desk, Adhel placed both palms down on its smooth work surface and leaned forward to better see. In the courtyard below more than a dozen mounted and armored elves sat their horses rigidly, blue pinions fluttering at the ends of the long staffs they held erect. Numerous others stood at attention - too many to count, she realized with growing trepidation. She could not discern Elrond though surely he must be among them, but one golden head did draw her eye.

Glorfindel held out his gloved hand for the reins of the bay stallion he was presented with and climbed into the saddle with practiced ease. His flaxen hair shone pale against the sharp metallic angles of his armor and no flower embellished his breastplate this day. On his back were a great war-bow and quiver of arrows, and against his hip the unadorned hilt of a curved elvish blade rested. There was nothing about either his uniform or weapons which differentiated him from any of the other warriors, and yet Adhel could not look away once her gaze had fallen on him. A calmness settled over her in the presence of his quietly unassuming power, and she could see its effect reflected in the stillness which came over the entire force.

Long after the last flapping standard had disappeared from sight, she could still feel that stillness.


End file.
